


Hate him.

by Theghostinthemirror



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/F, F/M, Onesided Christine/Meg, Period Typical Homophobia, Raoul/Christine - Freeform, referenced Onesided Erik/Christine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 12:38:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14165010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theghostinthemirror/pseuds/Theghostinthemirror
Summary: Meg Giry stands on the rooftop reflecting. Reflecting on the past, on a friend, and why she chose him.My first fic, so be kind please.





	Hate him.

There she was, Christine, Meg's best friend, and crush, cuddling beside the Vicomte De Chagny. She couldn't help but be bitter against him. 

It wasn't his fault that Christine loved him. And she knew very well that the Vicomte loved her very dearly, he had nearly died trying to protect her from the Phantom.Yet still, she felt a burning jealousy. Is this how the Phantom felt? No--she dismissed the thought, she couldn't ever hurt Christine the way the scorned Ghost did. 

She would never see Christine the same way that the Phantom did. He treated her like a pretty little China doll that he had found, something designed to be awed and kept safe and away from the world. A pet for him to cuddle and adore, without ever having to give away to anyone.

But for a moment, she understood what he must've felt. The hatred for a man who had never done anything wrong. Hatred? Was that to strong a word for what she felt towards the Vicomte? No, it was just an unreasonable hatred that she felt. Monsieur Raoul Le Vicomte de Chagny had never personality hurt Meg, nor even hurt Christine, and yet even the thought of his long title came out like a hiss. 

Watching from a distance as Christine's delicate frame pressed up against him, she couldn't help but wonder why she had chosen him. It was no question to her why she chose him over the Phantom, the Ghost's crazed possessiveness was what had frightened her off. But why she had chosen him over her?

Sure, Christine and him were childhood sweethearts, but weren't she and Christine childhood companions too? Was it his love for her? But did she not love Christine just as much! Was it his titles? His land? The honour that came along with a Vicomte and Naval Officer? But Christine had never in her life cared for titles! Perhaps his looks? His finely chiseled features? His short, slightly curled blonde hair? His China blue eyes? Did she not also have curly blonde hair and blue eyes? How quick he was to her aid when the Phantom stole her away? No, she had been there too! She had even started looking before he had! So why?

Meg knew why, but it killed her inside to admit it. Because a girl like Christine would never be accepted with Meg. They'd be outcasts, who had ever heard of two girls being lovers? And Christine didn't even like her in that way, only as a friend. Meg’s love was hopeless, much like the Phantom’s, it could simply never come to be. It was far better for the both of them that Christine married the Vicomte.

His family had already accepted her as one of their own, and they were set to be married in the spring. Christine would look lovely, with her white wedding dress and flowers just popping into bloom. Upon hearing of their engagement every other ballet girl was filled with excitement or jealousy, but a different kind of jealousy from the one Meg felt.

The other girls lusted after the Vicomte, how could they not? They were normal, unlike her. They could appreciate the Vicomte’s muscular physique and chiseled features, they could dream of him sweeping them off their feet and taking them away to the luxurious life of a Vicomtesse. One girl, Antoinette, was so jealous that even when the Vicomte was on his way down to rescue Christine, she had clung to his arm and talked about how “ If you never get Christine back, I'm here for you.” 

Watching them embrace in the snow, just beyond the Opera’s Garden, waiting for the Vicomte’s carriage to arrive, Meg felt herself burn up. But as he held Christine in the snow, she swore she could feel it. Feel a release, a let go. She was happy. That’s all that counted, didn’t it?


End file.
